Daily Front Row

2012 February 11

Waris and the Boos

Comments | | Print

Waris Ahluwalia
Billy Farrell Agency View Gallery

(NEW YORK) Who's your squeeze du jour, baby? Well, last night, if you made it to The Standard's uppermost stretches, it was most definitely Waris Ahluwalia, who threw a "You're My Boo bash with Moda Operandi for his cheeky crop of nameplate accoutrements emblazoned with the affectionate—and versatile!—moniker of "boo."

A kitschy bubblegum pink neon sign bearing said term of endearment provided an ideal photo opp backdrop for MO's Aslaug Magnusdottir; Yigal Azrouel popped by after his post-show supper at the Gramercy, while Spanx Rock and Solange Knowles crooned for the crowd. Besides the live performances, the boîte's typical sonic fare got spiced up with a bit of waltz-apropos tunes (in Italian, perhaps?), eliciting boozily impassioned sing-a-longs from the particularly affectionate crowd. Also making appearances: Bibhu Mohapatra, Johan Lindeberg, Brad Goreski, Lola Rykiel, Lulu Frost darling Lisa Salzer, and Tara Subkoff. 

Well past midnight, the testy line downstairs multiplied by the minute; Fashion Week be damned, it was a Friday night in the MePa, after all! Timo Weiland showed up straight from the studio donning a backpack to wish his close pal (and frequent dinner guest of honor for Timo's dins with his mom!) well. Updates from the pre-show world of Weiland: "So many crazy things are happening there! I’m not anxious, but I’m trying to stay focused. I need to go home and get some sleep," said a sweet and sleepy Weiland before heading back to hit the sack.

Once the chosen, the connected, and (most important of all) the persistent made their way to The Top, Ahluwalia and his many adoring boos (oh, there are so many!) bellied up to the bar, many opting for champagne pours in goblet proportions. And apparently, the bevy of pals feel the love. "I call each and every one of them, every morning, and I tell them, 'you’re my boo. I love you!'" Ahluwalia exclaimed with a wink.

Remnants of past parties swag popped up here and there: ladies in evening gowns squeezed into the mirrored elevators clutching gratis perfume bottles, and discarded packaging from the pink-saturated Barbie's dream closet soirée beforehand lined the ledge snaking around The Top of The Standard's banquettes. Also observed: The greeting of choice for the "boo" of honor seemed to be constant snapping of the suspenders from behind—more effective than a tap on the shoulder, non?
ALEXANDRA ILYASHOV